


Routine

by spanglecap



Series: Prompt Fills & Drabbles [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Steve and Nat being cuties, Steve and Nat fucking in a shower, does it need any more tags, in which Steve is incredibly awkward, post-mission care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 05:33:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3884290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spanglecap/pseuds/spanglecap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fill from tumblr - Natasha invites Steve to shower with her</p>
            </blockquote>





	Routine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ice326](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ice326/gifts).



> Prompt from this post; http://askboxmemes.tumblr.com/post/31099194023/even-more-drabbles  
> Ice 326 asked for; "Steve/Nat - "Invite Me" (to shower?) *evil smirk*"
> 
> I had this rolling around my drafts unfinished and it kind of worked so I did some editing. Unbeta'd
> 
> So yeah, porn, because there's not much else you can do in a shower in a fanfic. Apart from cry, but I'll save that for some other fic.

Steve winces as Natasha presses down on his ribs. She’s sat next to him on a bench in the locker room, a particularly bruising mission behind them. The top half of his uniform is in a heap on the floor, revealing the flourish of mottled purple and green that has already started to spread across his torso.

“Anything feel broken?” she asks, moving her hand slightly and applying a little more pressure. It hurts, but thankfully bruising seems to be the worst of it.

“No,” he wheezes when she presses a bit too hard. She eases off. He offers her a small smile. “Just sore.”

She nods, and Steve doesn’t miss how her touch lingers for a moment, feather light and leaving sparks dancing over his skin before she shifts and moves to unzip her own suit. She tries to hide a grimace when she rolls her shoulder.

“Let me,” Steve says quickly, moving to help her. He unzips the suit to her navel and gently pushes the fabric to one side, letting her slip her arm out with relative ease.

It’s kind of become like a routine for them, after a mission. Checking each other over for injuries. Undressing each other.

He isn’t really sure how it started. He thinks it was when Natasha found out about his habit of downplaying any injuries he came back with after a mission. Thanks to his healing capabilities he'd always ignore them and walk it off. She’d called him an idiot and told him to strip, saying it was the only way she’d know if he was hiding any more injuries. He’d been too tired to argue at the time, and he ignored the way she pursed her lips in annoyance when she saw the bruises on his skin, the cuts and grazes filled with dirt. She’d helped him clean them off, even though they both knew they would start to heal in a few hours and called him an idiot again, though more softly that time. After that it just kind of…kept happening.

It’s strange, but it’s familiar now. It feels easy to let her peel away his suit, check over his wounds, and as natural as breathing to do the same for her. Cleansing, like a release. Like shedding away the battle. He tries not to think too hard about it.

He’s so busy trying not to think too hard about it that it takes him completely by surprise when she leans in and brushes her lips against his. It’s a little hesitant, which is weird because hesitant is the _last_ thing Natasha is. But it still leaves him light headed, stomach fluttering when she pulls back like that time she kissed him on the escalator. He realises his eyes are closed so he opens them to see her with a somewhat conflicted expression on her face.

“What was that for?” he asks dumbly, because it’s the first thing that comes to mind.

“I’ve been trying to remember what it felt like,” she admits. And if he's honest with himself, he's been doing the exact same thing the last few months. A moment passes where neither of them know what to say, but then suddenly she’s kissing him again. There’s conviction behind it this time, fierce and passionate and _there’s_ the Natasha he knows. That he loves.

Steve doesn’t quite know how to react for a moment, because as much as he’s been dreaming about this for what feels like eternity for some reason he never thought it would actually happen. He’s not completely oblivious – he’s seen the way she looks at him, the way she sometimes bites her lip and her eyelashes flutter shut briefly when he touches her skin, but there’s always been some unspoken boundary they’ve never crossed. Something neither of them can name that keeps them from expressing any mutual desire they might have. Something that keeps their relationship firmly within the confines of the ‘good friends’ category.

Until now.

Now she’s biting at his lip and his brain is still trying to catch up with what’s happening but thankfully primal instincts kick into gear and he’s kissing her back just as hungrily. She’s intoxicating and he groans into her mouth when she reaches up and cards her fingers through his hair. There’s something that feels like urgency when she starts tugging on the rest of his clothes, fumbling with his belt. He stands up, momentarily unsure whether he should keep kissing her or leave, but she follows, unwilling to part her lips from his. She presses herself against him and moans into his mouth when he wraps his arms around her, unable to stop himself. Of course he can’t bring himself to just _leave_ , as if it’s that simple. Not when she’s kissing him like this. Not when she’s got her hands all over his skin like this.

“Shower with me?” she asks breathlessly, and Steve nods without thinking. Out here in the locker room, he reasons, anyone could walk in on them, but at least the shower could give them some kind of privacy. Shedding the rest of their clothes is a relatively quick process thanks to her impatience. Well, for her at least. He’s feeling very lumbering and clumsy as he fumbles with his boots and trousers, compared to the liquid grace she seems to slip out of her suit. Suddenly she’s standing bare before him and for a moment he doesn’t dare breathe. Steve’s seen her practically naked before, plenty of times, but this is different and she’s _stunning,_ so beautiful he can’t take his eyes off her pale curves and soft swells of flesh. She has the foresight to pick up some towels and he still hasn't quite processed what’s happening as she takes his hand in hers and leads him to the showers.

Throwing the towels over the top of the cubicle, she closes the door behind them and suddenly the gravity of the situation hits him. Things won’t be the same if they go through with this. He doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad thought but it’s definitely one of the two. How could things ever be the same after this? What if this ruins their friendship? He’s always wanted more from her but he’d resigned himself to gladly taking whatever tentative, platonic companionship she offered him long ago. He doesn’t want to risk losing that. And it’s been so long since he had a woman in his arms like this part of him is worried he’s forgotten what to do. He always fantasised they’d go out to dinner a few times first, that he’d take the time to treat her right, not some clumsy fuck in a shower-

“-You’re thinking too hard,” she says, interrupting the internal conflict he’s having. “Don’t.”

She rises up on her tiptoes to kiss him and her lips seem to silence his doubts, all worries slipping away at the feel of smooth, uninterrupted skin under his palms. Nothing has ever felt so _right_ and Steve struggles to breathe, head swimming. She reaches behind him and turns the shower on, drags one of his hands between her thighs. Her lips part in a gasp when he touches her, and though part of him wants to take things slow, savour every moment, most of him doesn’t want to waste another second. He’s waited long enough already, wasted too much time dreaming about ‘what ifs’.

Natasha moans into Steve’s mouth when he grips at her flesh, sinks a finger inside her because she’s already soaking wet in anticipation. He may have been hesitant before, but it’s like something inside him has _snapped_ and the sounds she makes are the most glorious thing he’s ever heard, going straight to his core. He just wants to _touch,_ grasping every bit of flesh he can reach. Sucking on that plush bottom lip of hers, he pulls away with a careful scrape of teeth and she moans as he presses the heel of his palm against her clit with what he hopes is the right amount of pressure. The feel of her touch on his wet skin is almost enough to break him as her hands glide up his chest to settle around his shoulders, pulling him down to her lips again. She feels so tiny in his arms, small in a way so very different from when she’ll crouch behind his shield with him. She cries out in pleasure and surprise when he sinks another finger inside her, impatient but wanting to make sure she's ready for him. She's so tight, so hot and needy and he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven when she finally wraps a hand around the hard length of him, choking back a groan.

“Do we need a condom?” he asks through gritted teeth. He knows she can’t get pregnant and he can’t catch anything (not that he’s been sleeping around enough to do that even if he could) but he thinks it’s probably polite to ask. She shakes her head quickly. He debates pushing her up against the shower wall but the thin cubicle dividers suddenly look flimsy to him and the only solid wall has the shower controls in the middle of it.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he decides instead, withdrawing his fingers from her core and hitching one of her thighs up against his hips. Her weight won’t be a problem – she’s as light as a feather and he could hold her there all day if he wants to. And _god,_ does he want to. With her arms around his neck, she jumps up and settles herself into his arms, legs locked loosely around his hips. She kisses him then, and reaches down between their bodies to line him up. He looks up to meet her gaze – one last check to make sure that yes, they’re actually doing this, last chance to back out – and he honestly isn’t sure what he’d do if she were to change her mind right now. Thankfully he doesn’t have to find out because she sinks herself down on him, head falling back and lips parting with a deep inhalation of what sounds like relief.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he gasps out, followed by a mental string of profanities because she’s _so fucking_ _tight and slick, Jesus H. Christ-_

“-Language, Rogers,” she laughs breathlessly, and he’s glad she can’t tell what he’s thinking.

“When are people gonna just let that go?” he groans. She laughs again and his chest aches because she’s so _beautiful_ when she smiles, has he ever told her how beautiful she is when she laughs?

She leans in and silences his thoughts again with a kiss, a quickly recurring thing, he realises. Strands of her wet hair plaster to his own, and she cups his face in both her hands, thumbs trailing over his cheekbones.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs against her lips, because he wants to take her too many ways to decide by himself and his mind feels scrambled at the feel of her around him.

“Wanna feel you for days,” she sighs, head falling back as she adjusts to his size. Water cascades down her body, and Steve can’t resist dipping his head down to taste the pretty pink buds of her nipples. She leans back to give him better access, head resting against the wall. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Steve thinks that ‘wanna feel you for days’ sounds like a good thing, because if all she wanted from him was a quick fuck and a moment of release then surely she wouldn’t want a lasting reminder?

“Hard, then?” he asks, just to clarify as he pushes his doubts to the back of his mind. She bites her lip and nods, breath quickening at the thought. He adjusts her weight in his arms, a shock of pleasure going through him as he does so. Supporting her weight with one arm, he splays his other hand over the centre of her back, pulling her upright again and keeping her pressed against him.

He can feel himself quickly becoming addicted to the slide of her lips on his, to the way she gasps into his mouth when he starts to slam his hips into hers, just the way she’d asked for. He’s never been able to decide how he thinks Natasha would sound during sex, whether she’d be loud or quiet or talkative or something else entirely. But it sounds like a symphony when she lets out soft moans and sharp breaths, whimpering broken Russian as she buries her face into his neck and clings to him like her life depends on it. He mouths at her collarbone, mind too numb with pleasure to do anything other than fuck her even harder when she asks him to. It takes what feels like an eternity before her breath starts to become shaky, but he has no problem lasting a long time and he moans into her skin. He could do this forever and still not get enough of the way it feels so he’s willing to keep going as long as she wants him to. As long as it takes to get her body trembling on the edge of climax. She slips her hand between their bodies to rub at her clit and she’s quivering sooner than he expected, biting down on his shoulder to muffle shuddering sobs of pleasure.

“No,” he says hoarsely, knowing she’s close. “I want to hear it, let me hear you come, Nat.”

She does, nails digging into his skin and the most beautiful moans spilling from her lips like wine from a chalice. He drinks them all up greedily, and he’d be lying if he said his chest doesn’t swell in pride at the sound of it, at how exquisite she looks. His own release washes over him, quick and almost overwhelming as he spills himself inside her. He swears again and braces one arm against the wall, heart pounding so hard it hurts his bruised ribs.

Neither of them speak for a moment, still tumbling back down to earth. She meets his gaze and suddenly the weight of what they’ve just done comes crashing down on him. She still doesn't say anything, just pushes the wet strands of hair back from his forehead. She's a vision, all flushed cheeks and bitten lips and shallow breaths but there’s this... _look_ in her eyes he hasn’t seen before, and his gut clenches in worry. It feels different now the haze of lust is starting to fade and they both know it.

He doesn’t know what to say, but he doesn’t think he’d be able to get the words out of his mouth even if he had any. Pulling out of her and carefully setting her down to stand on the tiled floor, he tries to figure out what the hell just happened. What it could mean for them now.

“Don’t,” she says, turning away from him to face the wall with the shower controls on.

“Don’t what?” he asks, anxiety gnawing at his stomach. Don't touch her? She turned away from him, is that what she meant? Is that it? Is it – whatever fleeting desire she apparently had – over?

“I can hear you thinking too hard again,” she replies, and his heart skips a beat in relief when she turns back to him with a dollop of body wash in her palm, quickly leans up to brush a kiss on his lips. She wouldn’t be acting this intimate if she regretted it, right? She gives him one of those devilish half smiles as she works the body wash into his skin.

 “I want to take you out for dinner some time,” he blurts out, before the sudden rush of confidence leaves him.

“I was wondering if you’d ever ask me that,” she says slyly, and Steve can’t stop the grin that pulls at his lips. He knew when she’d dragged him into the shower that things would change. But maybe, just maybe this might be a change for the better.

They finish washing each other down and Steve resists the urge to get on his knees and make her come on his tongue just so he could hear her again, but he promises himself he’ll wait until he’s taken her on a proper date first.

Natasha has other ideas, and insists that they add orgasms to their unofficial post-mission routine.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Comments/kudos always welcome ;)


End file.
